Category: how to

How to Get Across Napoli City With 55,000 People When the Trains Aren’t Running

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Ornate arch and fountain on the Bay of Naples

The football stadium capacity is 55,000 people and it seems that most of them are standing with us here in the dark. The two policemen in front of the locked train station are also in the dark as to why it’s shut, but what they can be sure about is that we all need to find alternative ways to get home. The relatively small amount of taxis are snapped up at the speed of flat screen televisions on a Black Friday Sale, and the crowd assembling around the bus stops looks as though Taylor Swift is about to sing there. My Better Half and I decide to walk along to the previous stop to see if we can get on a bus before it reaches the masses.

I love Napoli. A city built on Greek myth, infinite humour, and three highly explosive volcanoes. Big city streets are intertwined with narrow stone-paved lanes, strung with washing lines and the noise of Vespas weaving in and out below. A walk along the expansive promenade affords you all the shades of blue the Bay of Naples has to offer, with the Castel dell’Ovo and Vesuvius in the background, while a dude selling socks from a sports bag cheerfully stops for a chat.

The streets are as busy here at midnight as they are at midday, and couples my parents’ age go for a stroll, eating ice-cream from parlours that stay open until 1am. Every few steps there’s a cafe serving the local elixir in warmed espresso cups, and you can choose to buy a ‘caffe sospeso’, a free coffee to be claimed by a less fortunate stranger, which is a community tradition that started here in the 1800s.

This is the birthplace of Enrico Caruso, Bud Spencer, pizza, and my Better Half. He grew up on the slopes of Vesuvius, within a family of exceptional people, whose first question whenever we visit is always “have you eaten?”. Regardless of your answer, within minutes the table is covered with cheeses, meats and bread, and someone will have disappeared to get cakes.

female statue and a balcony street scene
Statue of author on the bathroom scales at Castel dell’Ovo, and a Napoli lane

The football stadium is on the other side of the city from where we are staying. We stand at the previous stop and watch the bus speed straight passed, already packed with people squashed up against the windows. The Taylor Swifters are now largely hanging out in the road. We watch from a distance as the bus has no option but to stop, and it’s promptly engulfed like a meat-wagon in a zombie apocalypse.

“And it’s too far to walk?” I ask for the fourth time.
“Yes,” Better Half replies calmly.
“Not much chance of getting a taxi eh?”
He smiles.
“Any camping shops open do you think? Could get a nice tent and a couple of sleeping bags?”
We start walking back to the zombie apocalypse.

The city began it’s life as ‘Parthenope’ in the 8th century BC. It was named for the suicidal siren who, according to legend, washed up on the rocks of Megaride after failing to seduce Odysseus on his epic journey. Refounded and renamed ‘Neapolis’ (New City) by Greek settlers 200 years later, today’s citizens still refer to themselves as the Partenopei.

Napoli’s strategic position in the Mediterranean meant many fought to occupy it. Over the centuries, Byzantine, Roman, French, Spanish, and Austrian rulers have all claimed their place here, each leaving an extensive wealth of architectural and cultural heritage. There are seven castles, four royal residences, more churches than you can shake a jewelled sceptre at, ornate villas decorated with mosaic and bronze (above and below the sea), Pompeii and Herculaneum, and the world’s longest actively running Opera House.

The least welcome of invaders were the German forces who came to destroy the city and deport its men to concentration camps during World War II. On September 28th, 1943, the shooting of a local 12-year-old boy, Filippo Illuminato, sparked a spontaneous civilian uprising. Men, women, and children fought German soldiers in the street, built barricades with furniture, and attacked the barracks. It took four days for them to send the Nazis packing, and when the Allied Forces arrived on October 1st they found the city had already been liberated by its own people.

Back at the apocalypse, there’s still a lot of zombies, but no-one seems too stressed or ready to eat one another. Napoli played Paris Saint-Germain tonight in the Champions League, which if you’re not familiar with European football, is quite a big deal. The game ended 1-1, and throughout the day there’s been an energetic camaraderie on the streets between the locals, visiting Parisians, and regular tourists. Many are wandering about now, stood around chatting, Googling “how do we get out of here?”, and waving at anything with wheels.

Football crowd at Napoli
The bus stop crew spotted a taxi in the distance

It is of course beneficial to be with a native in these types of situations. Although he’s lived abroad much of his adult life, my Better Half has the region’s magma in his blood and a magnetic connection to his hometown’s volcanic soil. He instinctively knows where on the pavement we should stand to encourage good fortune.

Superstition and religion are firmly stitched into the fabric of Napoli. In a ceremony dating from the 14th century, the dried blood of their Patron Saint, kept in an ornate vial, is twice-yearly brought out to a cheering public. San Gennaro was a bishop, executed during the Christian persecution, and if his reliquary blood melts during the ritual, it is a sign of upcoming prosperity, while remaining in its dry state is a bad omen. It is said that bringing out the relic during a 1631 eruption stopped the lava flow in its tracks. The years the blood hasn’t liquefied coincide with an earthquake, a cholera outbreak, the start of WWII, COVID, and the Nazi invasion.

In recent years, Napoli has enjoyed a touristic renaissance, thanks in large part to the long-awaited win of the National Football League in 2023. In a crescendo of celebrations over the course of many weeks, the city and its inhabitants were painted blue and adorned in flags and banners with such exuberance that it caught the attention of international media and travel magazines. Tourism boomed, and areas that were previously run-down have been transformed by new business, with visitors realising that the city is more than just the gateway to Capri, Sorrento, and the Amalfi Coast.

A car pulls up next to our lucky spot. Driver Ciro and his pal were on their way home, but thought to stop and charitably offer up available space in the car to strangers. Peering into the tangle of arms, legs, and faces, the available space seems to be dangling from the rear view mirror. Our fellow opportunists all breathe in, and we squash up, with me sitting on my Better Half’s lap trying not to grab anyone’s body parts while searching for a seat belt. There’s people in the luggage compartment at the back. They think it’s hilarious. They’ve come from Argentina, on a pilgrimage to watch a match in the spiritual home of their national hero.

The entire city is an open-air shrine to Diego Maradona. The arrival of the Argentine football player in 1984 was met with shock and euphoria, as Napoli had never won a league or major title at that point, while Maradona was already a renowned world-class talent. Diego grew up in poverty. He was an outspoken critic of social and political injustice, a defender and hero of the working classes. For both the man and the city, it was love at first sight, and with him, Napoli won the league twice.

Now seeing as we’re over capacity, Ciro lets us know that if we see the police we should all put our heads down. This could be interesting as mine is wedged up against the front passenger’s headrest with little room for manoeuvre. We weave in and out of the busy roads, and all go silent, therefore rendering us invisible as we sail passed the police. There’s now a party atmosphere in the car, and I imagine this is what contortionists do for fun on their birthdays.

We drop people off at different locations, and when the door opens they spring to freedom as though exiting a circus clown car. There’s space on the back seat now, but the Argentinians are having a great time in the luggage compartment. We get out for a group hug when we find their hotel, and wish them smooth return travels. Ciro drops us off last and is happy to finally be going home, so we thank him profusely and insist on paying him for his trouble.

So how do you get home after watching a football match in Napoli?
Well nowadays there’s Uber, and you can pre-book a taxi of course, that would be sensible.
However, for a more authentic ‘full immersion’ experience I would suggest:
-Make friends with the locals, you may end up in a cool back-street cafe, or on the sofa at their place with Mama making you spaghetti alle vongole.
-Follow a groovy-looking group of folks and discover Napoli’s eclectic music scene.
-Smear yourself in olive oil in order to reduce friction while squeezing onto the bus.
-Start singing Enrico Caruso’s “O Sole Mio” and wait to be adopted.
-Carry a tent with you, pitch it near a bakery ready for breakfast time, and camp out until the trains start running again the next day.

Napoli harbour and Vesuvio
Vesuvio was useless at hide and seek

How to Rescue a Japanese Gentleman From a Bathroom in Bali

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A statue in an Ubud garden

When the banging started, I just thought some building work was going on. By the time my Better Half got back from the shop, he was greeted by my inquisitive face peering down the stairwell, trying to figure out where the racket was coming from. Once the shouting began, like a bargain Sherlock Holmes purchased on Temu, I finally deduced the problem. Our neighbour was trapped in his bathroom.

We are in a guest house in Ubud, the cultural hub of Bali, in Indonesia. The pavements are a ninja assault course, and the traffic is dreadful, but otherwise, this is a marvellous place to visit. Around 30km inland, although popular with tourists, Ubud maintains a more traditional Balinese vibe than the busy south coast resorts of Kuta, Seminyak, and Canggu. Town streets contain western-friendly warungs, cafes, spas, and modestly priced homestay accommodation through ornately-carved wooden doorways. Shops sell locally made arts and crafts, while on the outskirts are rice fields, waterfalls, and a Sacred Monkey Forest.

Our homestay is at the end of a 30-metre-long pebble-stoned walkway, which, after the first few steps, magically takes you away from the traffic noise and bustle of Hanoman Street. It is a peaceful oasis with giant leafed monstera plants, frangipani trees, and a stone fishpond. The immaculate incense-scented garden is full of wildlife, the sound of bird noise, and a nice Japanese man currently pounding on a bathroom door with such force I’m starting to think he’s in there with rabid dog.

The four-studio apartment building is on two floors, and we’re on the top. Each studio has sliding patio doors to enter. We find our neighbour’s patio doors locked, with the keys dangling on the inside, blatantly mocking us through the glass. So after failing to get passed door number 1, the lovely landlady’s lovely assistant goes to fetch a locksmith.

We shout through gaps in the door frame for him not to panic, and that we’re going to get him out. He can’t hear us, so he continues to panic and ram the bathroom door. Our downstairs neighbour glides up gracefully, as she’s into yoga, and that’s how she moves. She also shouts through gaps in the door frame for him not to panic, and that we’re going to get him out. He can’t hear her either, so he continues to panic and ram the door. She sends positive energy through both sets of doors while we wait for the locksmith.

Founded by revered Hindu priest, Rsi Markandeya in the 8th century, many visitors come to Ubud for its renowned holistic heritage. While on a legendary journey, the venerated sage Markandeya was drawn to an area at the meeting point of two rivers. Discovering a unique spiritual energy and abundance of medicinal plants, he named the place Ubad, the Balinese word for medicine. First a sanctuary, then temples, and a water distribution system to enable rice-growing were built, and a thriving community emerged. Ubud became famous for medication, wellness, and spirituality.

Yoga and healing are a big thing here, from locals providing sessions in their gardens, to luxury retreats. I’d probably still be doing it myself if I hadn’t popped a disc overstretching my cobra a few years ago. Our rescue team yoga friend seems very nice. She’s from Australia, and I didn’t catch her name, but she looks to me like a Melanie.

Nowadays, many Westerners have jumped on the wellness bandwagon, particularly since Julia Roberts came here to Eat, Pray, and Love in 2010. Lamp-posts are covered in laminated flyers advertising courses for kundalini awakening, invoking your inner god/goddess/shaman, visceral lengthening, advice from a 24-year-old life coach, and how to become a certified clairvoyant hypnotist. But I’m not about to rain on anyone’s crystal sound bath, whatever floats your well-being boat.

Fine, just not Henry VIII

Lovely landlady’s teenage daughter joins us on the balcony. With no opening window or other way out than to break down the door, we try shouting again, to no avail. He still can’t hear us, is still panicking, and ramming the door with such force, I’m starting to think he’s in there with a raging baboon. His last bang shook the small shrine on the front wall so much that it knocked the incense sticks off onto the floor.

The incense is part of a ceremonial offering to the gods. They are placed on top of small woven leaf trays, called canang sari, with coloured petals, crackers, and tokens, which are then flicked with holy spring water from a frangipani flower. The canang are usually made by the lady of the house, and it takes an hour to put 50 of them together, which are then placed in temples, home entrances, shop doorways, pavements, and even cars and bikes. This daily ritual is to show gratitude and maintain the peaceful balance between humans, nature, and the divine.

Melanie is currently concerned about the tense energy around the patio doors. She attempts to cleanse it and waves her arms while flicking her fingers. Her hands inadvertently flap about in front of my Better Half’s face. He didn’t even flinch, though I think she sensed an atmospheric drop, and instead moved away to give me a helpful tutorial on how to breathe in stressful situations.

Tourism began in Ubud in the 1930s while the island was still under Dutch colonial rule. An artistic renaissance, encouraged by resident artists Walter Spies and Rudolf Bonnet, attracted anthropologists, musicians, and literary celebrities of the time, such as H.G. Wells, Charlie Chaplin, and Noel Coward. Traditional Balinese arts and crafts were adapted to make exquisite souvenirs for the influx of international customers. Local artisans, silversmiths, bone and wood carvers, and fabric designers created and sold at the art markets, much as they still do today. The array of work is amazing, and there are workshops to learn batik, painting, and jewellery-making, with the added bonus that the Balinese are far too nice to laugh at your efforts.

The locksmith arrives!
And thank heavens, because the force he’s throwing himself against that door, I’m starting to think he’s stuck in there with a claustrophobic tiger. I gently usher the lovely landlady’s teenage daughter to one side, because her first experience of seeing a naked man doesn’t need to be a frenzied, soaped-up 60-year-old Japanese tourist.

The first lock is broken off with huge pliers, and we all shout as the patio doors slide open. He finally hears us, much to the relief of the bathroom door, which now has a large crack in it. The locksmith goes to work on the offending lock, while Better Half and I go to sit back on our side of the balcony, as it’s now a little crowded in the room, and my next experience of seeing a naked man doesn’t need to be a frenzied, soaped-up 60-year-old Japanese tourist.

The traumatised gentleman is released from his ceramic cell and wrapped in a towel, with emotional support Melanie on hand, sharing her breathing tutorial and grounding techniques through Google Translate. Our lovely landlady gives him a cold beer, and we all celebrate his newfound freedom.

So, how do you rescue a Japanese man from a bathroom in Ubud?
-When there’s no window to climb through, you call a locksmith.
-If you find yourself on the wrong side of the bathroom door, shout and bang, but try not to panic.
-Squeeze shower gel, or something oily, in the stuck part of the door to loosen it.
-If you insist on leaving the keys in the lock of the outer door, arm yourself with a klaxon and enough food for three days. Take your phone in with you, and a locksmith, and thoroughly check the bathing area for baboons before entering.

Join me next time when I’ll be explaining how to extract $400 from someone looking to harmonise their inner child using quantum bloc realignment and a bamboo jaw harp.

Ceramic Cell Block H

How to be the Highest Person in Spain Without Taking Drugs

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Volcano and a blue sky

Like countless others before me, the first time I saw the mighty volcano was through an airplane window. It was dusk, the sky was all shades of purple, and just as Mount Teide’s silhouette loomed large, the guitar riff of Pink Floyd’s ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’ kicked in through my headphones. It made quite an impression.

Years later, when I stood on the summit, I wondered if anyone could see me from their airplane window, but instead of their own Pink Floyd moment they had gotten some random nutter waving a football scarf.

The Canary Islands archipelago was created by volcanic eruptions spanning 20 million years, and sits in the Atlantic Ocean one hundred kilometres from the coast of West Africa. At 3718m above sea level, Tenerife’s Mount Teide is not only the highest point in the Canaries, but since the Spanish conquered these islands in the 15th century, it is also the highest point of Spain.

I came to Tenerife on holiday in the early 90s. I met the love of my life in a nightclub, and made the place home for a good few years. Whenever I returned from a trip, Teide welcomed me back, and while submerged in daily life on the coast, the mighty Mount was always visible.

Living in the tourist industry bubble, it’s easy to forget the incredible natural beauty that bought you there in the first place. So today, my two dear work colleagues and I are going to do what we’ve been explaining to hotel guests for years, and walk to the peak.

From the southern beach resorts it is an hour’s drive upwards on increasingly pine-fringed, winding mountain roads. The Teide National Park is a UNESCO Heritage Site and spans 190km2 of forested volcanic landscape. In all my years, this is the only place I’ve seen clouds rolling across the road in front of me.

At 1240m altitude, we drive passed vineyards that are organically irrigated by cloud cover. These bodegas consistently produce award-winning wines, and you can stop for a tasting with locally sourced traditional tapas, cheeses, beans, and goat meat. But that’s a treat for another day.

Above the clouds is a sky of uniquely vibrant cerulean blue. We pass the picturesque village of Vilaflor at 1400 metres, and Pino Gordo, the famous 800-year-old Canarian Pine. With the car windows open, you feel the temperature and air quality change as you ascend. With them closed, the bright sunlight tricks you into thinking it’s still hot outside, and stepping out of the car you’re greeted by an invigorating freshness, like being drenched by a virgin mojito.

Entering Las Cañadas, we have reached 2000m altitude and are now driving inside the 45km crater perimeter. The road levels out onto a grand expanse of lavascape, mineral-tinted rock formations, and Teide himself in the distance.

The iconic Tenerife image adorning many restaurant and hotel walls (and the old thousand peseta banknote), is the gravity-defying Roque Cinchado, or ‘God’s finger’, with the Mount as a backdrop. That view is from Los Roques de Garcia, which also has an amazing vista of the original caldera, remnants of ancient lava tubes, walking trails, a Visitors Centre, and the National Park’s only hotel.

We stop here to take in the majesty of the thing we’re about to scramble up. I spot a pair of feral Influencers. They ignore the signs to stay on the path and protect the endemic flora, to climb up for a photo shoot on a rocky ledge. I silently hope, rather uncharitably, that the Park Ranger fines them, or at least they don’t disturb any plant life as they slip off into a ravine.

Teide has been fascinating folks for millennia. The indigenous Guanches, who inhabited the island from the first century AD, called it Echeyde. They believed a dog-headed devil named Guayote was trapped inside the mountain, spitting fire and causing chaos when he was angry.

Guayote’s last tantrum was in November 1909, and although classed as an active volcano, the experts are happy to confirm he is currently taking a very long nap. It is common knowledge, but I decide not to remind Becky and Laura until we reach the top.

I have made the climb before, back in the days when I first moved here. Myself and several fellow ‘twenty-somethings’ bounded up with youthful exuberance, hangovers, inappropriate clothing, and most likely a couple of cheeky beers. That may make my previous comment about Influencers seem hypocritical, but health and safety rules were instinctual back then. We left no rubbish, touched no plants, didn’t build rock stacks to pose with, and the only damage sustained was to our kidneys. So there.

Now it’s more organised, and in the interests of conservation and safety, only 200 people are allowed to the peak daily. The cable car ascent takes 8 minutes to reach La Rambleta platform at 3555m, where we’re met by Spain’s highest public telephone, and a panoramic view of the crater with the ‘sea of clouds’ lapping up at its sides. From here, we need to flash our pre-booked summit passes at the nice man in the checkpoint hut to proceed upwards.

Depending on the cooperation of your thighs, it can take about 40 minutes to reach the peak from here, following the rocky path with its twists and varying gradient. The temperature combines laser-guided sunbeams with the brisk chill of an alpine ski resort, so it is the ideal place to get sunburn and pneumonia at the same time. There’s the odd flat rock that can be sat on to take a break and acclimatise to the changing altitude and thinness of the air.

Halfway up, Laura admits to feeling a little dizzy and breathless, so we sit for a while, taking the opportunity to appreciate the enormity of the view. A helicopter pops up and hovers just below us.
“Oh crap, the Feds are onto us, run for it!” I quip hilariously to zero reaction.
“Do you think someone’s in trouble?” Laura asks.
“It’s probably a training exercise,” offers Becky.
We agree that one of the trail guides must have forgotten his lunch and has just had a cheese and bacon baguette delivered en route, so continue upwards.

We cross over on the trail with a couple making their way down. They are beaming energetically. “It’s worth the effort!” they tell us. We swap pleasantries and smiles, as you always do when you see a fellow human in the middle of nowhere.

Laura needs to stop again, as the dizziness is getting the better of her.
We sit.
“What are you two doing? Keep going,” she says.
“No, come on, we’ll sit with you,” we say.
“I don’t know if I’ll get to the top, you two go.. go on,” she says.
“Look, it’s not far, we can wait and see if you feel better,” we say.
With a few choice words, Laura made it very clear what she thought of that idea, so instead of selfless camaraderie, we took her advice and “buggered off”.

The thought of reaching the top is exhilarating, and although probably looking more like an elderly antelope on its last legs, I pushed on feeling like a young gazelle.

The last part is steep and rugged. There’s a sulphur-smelling puff from a crack in the black sandy rock.
Charming.
You come all this way just to be farted at.

The sense of achievement is an amazing buzz, especially when we look back to see a determined Laura lunging up the trail behind us. The moment should have been accompanied by the Rocky theme tune, but she settled for the pair of us cheering her on instead.

The three of us are on top of the world’s third-tallest volcanic structure.
No phone signal, no white noise, no concrete, no pollution, and no people. We are 7500m from the floor of the Atlantic, and it’s beautiful.
Daily life’s problems temporarily dissolve. The loved one who passed away not long ago feels near. It’s as though the pure air and altitude has bought us closer to heaven.

We have our energetic beams, and laugh about finding real peace while standing on top of something highly explosive. We take our time, and the customary “we did it!” photos and start the journey back down telling anyone coming up that “it’s worth the effort.”

The last time I saw the mighty volcano was from an aeroplane window. That was nine months ago, as my better half and I left the island to go and look for adventure elsewhere. The reason for that, is a story for another time. We will return someday, but to make it our home once more, or just for a visit, right now is uncertain. The one thing for sure is that I’ll be looking for Teide to welcome me back as he always has, and I’ll still hear Pink Floyd when I see him.

So how do you get to be the highest person in Spain without taking drugs?
The second highest point of Spain is on its mainland. Mulhacén Mountain, in the Sierra Nevada range measures 3479m height, so you’re going to need an exceptionally long ladder to accomplish the task.
-It’s Teide or bust really, and plan your trip well in advance as there can be a couple of months waiting list for summit passes.
-Weather conditions greatly affect the running of the cable car, so it’s advisable not to wait until the last day of your holiday to go up, in case you get postponed.
-Wear layers, a hat, take water, wear sunscreen, sturdy footwear, and one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes, just to see if other hikers think they’re hallucinating.
-The trek is much more enjoyable with good company, and if your football team is rarely at the top of anything, don’t forget your scarf.

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My ‘5 Low Cost Ways To Improve Your Home Workplace & Boost Productivity’ Listicle

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I remember the days when “Zoom” was just a great tune by Fat Larry’s Band, and we all went to work in office buildings. Now, thanks to the World Wide Web and that pandemic, more than a quarter of the global workforce now works remotely. While sitting at a desk at home is not as physically demanding as Alaskan crab fishing, that’s not to say it doesn’t take a toll on our minds and bodies. To follow are some simple, low-cost ways to improve your home workplace and boost your productivity.

1. IF YOU ARE SITTING COMFORTABLY, THEN I’LL BEGIN

Your monitor should be an arm’s length away from your face, no less than 50cm and no more than 100cm. The top of the screen should be eye height, or if you wear bi-focals, lower it by 3cm. If your weapon of choice is a laptop, consider investing in an external keyboard and laptop stand to raise the screen to eye level.

Wrists need to be straight, with hands either at or below elbow level. Resting hands on hard edges can cause contact stress. You may even develop claws, which are fun at Halloween parties, but otherwise wrist rests are advised. Shoulders should be relaxed, and elbows close to the body, so adjust the chair’s armrests accordingly.

At the risk of sounding like a yoga session, thighs should be parallel to the floor, knees level with hips, and feet flat on the floor. For this, you may need to adjust chair height, get yourself a footrest, or just rest your feet on a very compliant pet.

Clear clutter from under your desk so legs and feet (and very compliant pet) have adequate space. Apparently, crossing your legs is an absolute no-no, causing everything from increased blood pressure to a rupture in the space-time continuum, so I’ll stop doing it if you will. For a natural pelvis position your peachy cheeks should be in contact with the back of your chair, allowing for the curve in the lower back. Consider getting a back support cushion if your chair doesn’t provide one.

Basically, your ears, shoulders, and hips should be aligned. Be wary of letting your head flop forward while you work as this adds weight strain on your neck. Especially if you’re gifted with an exceptionally heavy brain.

2. I SEE THE LIGHT!

Speaking of clever people, Dr Victoria Revell, a chrono-biologist at the University of Surrey, writes, “Light is critical for our health and well-being. Ensuring that we receive adequate light levels at the appropriate time of day benefits our alertness, mood, productivity, sleep patterns, and many aspects of our physiology”.

Unless you’re a vampire or avid gamer, daylight is your friend. For optimum goodness, choose a naturally well-lit room and position your monitor to avoid direct glare or reflections on the screen. With artificial light sources, the villain of the piece is fluorescent lighting as it resonates and flickers, causing headaches and eyestrain. The recommendations are to use LED and soft yellow tone bulbs with dimmer switches, and a combination of overhead and ‘task lighting’ (lamps).

3. DROP IT LIKE IT’S HOT

According to a study by the Indoor Environment Berkeley Lab, 22 °C is the ideal room temperature to achieve optimum productivity in office work. Too warm makes us sluggish. Too cold, because your colleagues insist on setting the aircon to ‘sub-zero’ and you don’t like it so confiscate the remote control, makes you unpopular. Consistent air-conditioning is expensive to run, and used long-term, contributes to respiratory ailments and dehydration, so try to limit the overall usage time.

Making your home economy efficient nowadays also makes it airtight, with double-glazing, window and door frame sealants and attic insulation. Stale air is detrimental to a healthy working environment, so where possible, regulate your room temperature by keeping a window open. When it comes to ventilation, I’m a big fan (big fan haha.. oh never mind). Using a fan will distribute your energy-boosting fresh air at a lower cost.

4. DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!

Replacing your regular coffee with herbal tea can effectively diminish what joy you have left in your life. Thankfully, advice from Health Direct states that 400mg of caffeine a day (that’s 2 espressos, or 4 instant coffees, or 8 cups of tea) is an acceptable amount for a healthy adult. As a stimulant, caffeinated and energy drinks will make you more alert. However, as a diuretic your bladder will need to urinate more often. While the frequent trips to the tinkletorium may give you a break from the screen, and chance to stretch your legs, remember to stay hydrated with healthier options. Alcohol should be avoided unless you’re Ernest Hemingway, or you’re crafting a particularly epic resignation letter.

5. TIME OUT

Time flies by unannounced when you’re creating a masterpiece. You may emerge from your work flurry to find a week has passed, you’ve developed the spinal curvature of a question mark, and a nice man from the Guinness Book of World Records is waiting to measure your toe-nails. Health and Safety Executive guidelines state that display screen users should take a break of 5-10 minutes every hour. Set an alarm, step away from the electronics, and refocus your eyes on something at least 20ft (6 metres) away. Walk about, stretch, do some breathing meditation. Have a dance, lie down with a mint-infused flannel on your face, or go and chat with a neighbour (remove flannel first), plan a revolution, or impress the cat with your fruit juggling skills. Then grab some healthy snacks and a fresh brew, fully invigorated for the next onslaught of productivity.

GET INTO THE GROOVE

Making these types of adjustments has long-term benefits. They help to avoid many of the stresses associated with sedentary computer work, such as chronic pain and musculoskeletal disorders, cardiovascular disease, eyestrain, and insomnia. You may even become better-looking as a result, and increase your chances of winning the lottery. In the meantime, for an immediate boost to your well-being, I wholeheartedly recommend a slow boogie to the timeless classic, “Zoom” by Fat Larry’s Band.

Why and how to care for your aloe vera plant

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Hello Vera

If you were looking for an ideal partner aloe vera is ‘the one’.  She’s full of goodness, low maintenance, adaptable, hardy, and easy on the eye.  A beautician and pharmacist by vocation, aloe holds anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidant, and antibacterial pain relief powers, and is an elixir of eternal youth.  Her curvaceous green leaves contain an effective treatment for almost everything from haemorrhoids to dandruff.  She is an antiseptic, a moisturiser, skin healer, hair conditioner,  sunburn coolant, and even fights dental plaque and gum inflammation.  In the event of a zombie apocalypse you could use a leaf as a sword with which to defend yourself, or better yet, an offering to the encroaching un-dead for relief from their pustules.  As I write, there are clever people in white coats researching the efficacy of aloe vera, not only as a weight loss aid, but a treatment for ulcers, Crohn’s disease, irritable bowel disease, and diabetes.  Not all heroes wear capes, but if you can get one around an aloe vera plant pot, by all means, do.

Getting familiar

Hailing from Africa and Arabia, aloe is a shrubby perennial succulent belonging to the Asphodelaceae family.  Mature plants produce yellow or red flowered spikes named ‘inflorescence’.  In existence for millennia, aloe vera was recognised in antiquity for her medicinal and beautifying properties, and championed by soldiers of Alexander the Great, sailors of Christopher Columbus, and the spotless skin of Cleopatra.  Ancient Egyptians named her ‘the plant of immortality’.  

The biology bit

Within aloe veras fat green leaf is a fleshy gel and translucent yellow sap, together containing a whopping seventy-five active components.  The gel part is packed with vitamins, minerals, enzymes, sugars, and amino acids, and the sap, or latex, comprises anthraquinones and glycosides.  Antiseptic agents involved in all this goodness inhibit virus, bacteria, and fungi, making it an all-purpose application with which to treat psoriasis, eczema, bruises, boils, cold sores, burns, and dermatitis.  Not only that, aloe is proven to reduce skin healing time and scarring, and provides a cooling emollient for sunburn. 

‘Fibroblast‘ sounds like a treatment for constipation, but is actually the name given to our collagen-producing skin cells.  Aloe stimulates the growth of these cells, which not only heals wounds faster but boosts the elastin fibres of the skin to smooth out wrinkles.  Teamed with zinc to tighten pores, amino acids which soften and moisturise, and antibacterial properties to combat acne, aloe vera is an effective, completely natural, and wonderfully cost-effective, skincare regime.

The disclaimer..

Many people eat aloe for its health benefits.  It is a little bitter to taste so throwing it into a smoothie with something more appetising is a good idea.  However, freshly cut aloe needs to be prepared properly to be edible, otherwise the laxative properties of anthraquinones contained within the sap can cause cramps and diarrhoea.  This preparation simply entails leaving the leaf in water for twenty minutes allowing the latex sap to escape.  If you’re taking medication first ask your doctor before including aloe in your diet, to be sure they won’t react, and if using a topical steroid skin cream, aloes skin absorption talents will increase the creams potency so it’s best to use either one or the other, not both.  It is possible to be allergic to aloe, particularly if you already have allergies to either latex or tulips (which must really hamper a romantic break in Amsterdam), so it is best to test a patch of skin before slathering your aloe all over.

Care for your Aloe Vera

Give your Vera light, warmth, and a good watering when her soil has dried out.

Care in more detail

-She flourishes in a bright, warm place.  If she doesn’t get enough light she’ll grow leggy and off-colour. 

-Brown dry tips are a sign of under-watering, but she recovers well once a regular watering cycle is regained.  Over-watering tends to make her ends shrivel and pucker.  The best way to tell when to give her a soaking is if her soil is dry by at least two inches down. 

-If constantly sat in moisture her roots will rot, so if her pot is sat in a tray, empty any excess water after she’s had a ten-minute soak in it. 

-Keeping pebbles or shells on the soil will help keep in moisture and stop the topsoil from baking in hot weather. 

-If living somewhere hot, water in the evening so the sun doesn’t boil her roots.

-Aloe doesn’t require fertiliser, but if she’s looking sad dilute a dose to half-strength to apply.  If you’d really like to give her a treat, she prefers rainwater.

-If kept indoors or constantly harvested it is rare that she will bloom, but kept in her ideal conditions, with sufficient sunlight, water, and warmth, she will produce flower spikes.

-Aloe is happy growing in the ground but does just as well in a pot which gives enough space to spread her roots out.  When her tips or colour isn’t how they should be, and watering isn’t the culprit, it’s time for a bigger pot.

-Using a clean, sharp knife, cut off any dry brown ends or sallow looking outer leaves to help keep her healthy. 

Let’s get potted

Terracotta pots are recommended as they allow the soil to dry out between watering, but plastic or ceramic pots are fine so long as there are adequate drainage holes.  As aloe is a succulent, the soil to use should be a well-draining potting mix.

She may have pups.  To propagate, leave them to grow to a manageable size, enough that they won’t break when you cut them free.  Use a clean sharp knife to detach, trying to keep its little roots intact.  Leave aside to dry out and to form a protective layer over the cut.  Use cactus potting soil and a small well-draining pot, and give the same light and warmth as before, but leave it a couple of days until you start to water.  If the roots came off when you cut, don’t panic, again leave it on the side but spritz with water each day and roots will eventually appear.

Harvesting and storage

If the leaves are off-colour they’re not good to use.  When harvesting take the most mature green leaves from the outside base of the rosette, wash off, and leave in a pot of water for twenty minutes for the sap-purge.  Smaller leaves can be kept in the fridge for a week, cut a new end each time, and apply it like a paintbrush wherever it’s required.  She also keeps well in the freezer, in ready-to-use chunk size pieces.

I use a vegetable peeler to strip the spiny sides, lay it down, slice off one side, then use a knife to slice off the flesh.  It can be a slippery mess, with bits of aloe shooting off your chopping board, but it’s worth the effort.  For a gel, pop it in a blender and she’ll keep in an airtight (preferably glass) container in the fridge for about a week.  If you add either or both, vitamin C or E to the mix (about 500 mg for 60ml of gel) she can last for up to two months.  You’ll know when she’s passed her sell-by date as she’ll start to smell like feet.  A handy way to keep your aloe gel is in an ice cube tray, remembering of course that it is aloe or risk tainting a perfectly good gin and tonic.

In conclusion

Your aloe vera is easy to care for.  She needs light and warmth to grow, but if you’re not fortunate enough to have outside space, or live in the land of eternal spring, she will still prosper on a window-sill.  So whether it’s for health, beauty, medicinal purposes, or simply just to brighten up a corner of your terrace, Vera’s your girl.  She’s a wonder.  In fact, I believe if you stuck her in the middle of the next G20 summit she would instigate world peace.  It’s certainly worth a try.